


"You Should Be Nicer To Ivy."

by goth_on_ham



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 12:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12276735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goth_on_ham/pseuds/goth_on_ham
Summary: Victor has a private word with Oswald about the way he treats Ivy.





	"You Should Be Nicer To Ivy."

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this for a while, because really... Oswald has this coming. Set between 3x22 and 4x01.

Oswald didn't like being alone. In fact, he despised it. He had realised long ago he would have to become accustomed to his own company, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Occasionally, after a particularly vexing day, surrounded by morons and incompetents, being alone could come as a welcome relief, but even then, Oswald would much rather have a kindred spirit to unwind with than be by himself. 

However, despite this, there were times when he found not being alone rather startling and unwelcome. Waking up and seeing Victor Zsasz standing at the foot of his bed was one such example.

It nearly gave him a heart attack.

“Victor!” He gasped and straight away his compulsion was to sit up and pull the covers up high. He wasn't indecent, but still, he hadn't expected to see the assassin and being stared at with those big brown eyes when he was only in his pyjamas was a little unsettling. He felt underdressed, and vulnerable. “What is it?”

Victor smiled, as if there was nothing odd about his presence, and Oswald felt himself becoming irritated. It probably showed on his face, because Victor chuckled. “You make noises when you sleep.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You don't snore, but you make these little sounds. Sort of like a cat or something.” Oswald's face grew hot. “Were you having a bad dream?”

“That's none of your business.” He said sharply, and he lowered the bed sheets just enough to fold his arms across his chest. “I asked you a question, Victor. What are you doing in my room?”

As a matter of fact, he had been having a bad dream, but that wasn't the point. How long had Victor been watching him?

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Victor didn't sound sorry.

The assassin was dressed as he usually was. In black. He wasn't wearing gloves, and Oswald could see two large silver rings on his right hand and one on the thumb of his left. Before he explained his presence, he walked around the bed so he was standing at the side of it, and then, with a gentle thump, he sat down. 

Oswald swallowed nervously. He wasn't sure why. 

“Well?” He urged, trying to mask his apprehension and most likely failing. He could hear the tremor in his own voice. 

He didn't fear Victor the way most people did. There was trust between them. But the man still had a disquieting aura about him that was impossible to ignore. Or at least, it was impossible to ignore when he was so close. 

It wasn't always unpleasant, in fact, a word that came more readily to Oswald's mind to describe it was 'exciting’, but it was far too early in the morning for excitement.

“You should be nicer to Ivy.”

“Excuse me?”

Oswald hadn't really tried to predict what Victor wanted from him, because the man was unpredictable, but that took him by surprise all the same.

Before he could stop himself, he scoffed. It was out of relief, as well as amusement. For a moment, he had thought it would be something serious.

However, when he was just beginning to relax, he saw that Victor was frowning at him. The stern look of disapproval made Oswald's insides twist in a way that was somewhere between unpleasant and thrilling. He tried to shake off the unfamiliar sensation with a laugh.

“You broke into my room to tell me to be nicer to Ivy?” 

“Your door wasn't locked.” Victor corrected, his disapproval not faltering for an instant, “You shouldn't laugh, this is serious.”

“Is this about what happened yesterday?” He sighed.

He supposed he had been a little short to her, but it was hardly the first time. Ivy was a grown woman (technically), she could take it. He struggled to feel guilty about it when she had been so damned bothersome. If she disliked being shouted at, she should have stayed clear of him when she knew he was in a bad mood. 

He hadn't hurt her. He had only told her that she was an idiot. Which she was.

“You were pretty rude.” Victor replied.

Oswald rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh for goodness sake… I had a long day.” 

“It was a long day for her too, she was with you for all of it. Remember?” The assassin prompted.

He supposed that was true. Meeting after meeting, with figureheads from the underworld, with representatives from the new Mayor's office, with interior decorators for his latest club… She had been by his side for it all. Her feedback wasn't always welcome, but she was always there to give it. 

His train of thought was interrupted by Victor reaching forward and taking his wrist in his hand. His hold was firm, but not painful, yet Oswald gasped all the same. He couldn't help it, it was unexpected. “What are you doing?” 

He attempted to pull his arm back, but Victor kept a grip on him effortlessly. A flicker of mirth passed over his face for a moment, but it didn't come through in his voice. “Well, I told Ivy that I would have a talk to you about it, but I figure you aren't going to listen to me without some persuasion first.”

“Persuasion?” Oswald’s heart hammered in his chest when Victor grinned at him. He didn't think it was funny at all. “What do you mean?” He demanded.

He had told Victor to 'persuade’ people before. He didn't want to believe it, but perhaps Ivy had paid Victor to turn on him. He should have known better than to allow them to spend so much time together. He had thought the two of them becoming friendly was harmless. Even beneficial. Clearly he had been wrong!

“Victor! Whatever Ivy has paid you, I will double it!” Victor pulled him out of bed and Oswald began to shriek, “Triple it! Victor, you mustn't! You work for me!”

Victor placed him face down over his lap. Oswald fought him desperately, kicking for all he was worth, and he was about to start yelling at him again to reconsider, when his struggles were interrupted by the quiet yet sinister sound of Victor shushing him. 

He glanced over his shoulder to see Victor removing his rings from his right hand and placing them on the bedside cabinet. He got the distinct impression that if he continued to fight with him, Victor would become more irate, so he would need to take a different approach.

“Whatever you plan on doing to me, you must reconsider!” He insisted, hoping the desperation in his voice made him sound convincing.

“Hm?”

Oswald felt a flutter of relief that Victor seemed to be listening, and he began to try to appeal to his sense of reason. “Without me, Gotham will fall to pieces again. Besides, I thought you liked working for me. You said yourself that business has never been better for you.”

Victor hummed thoughtfully and drummed his fingers on Oswald's back. “I do like working for you.” He admitted, but as he said that his arm linked around Oswald's waist. “But you’ve been bad.”

Oswald was about to protest, when a sharp, stinging swat landed on the seat of his pyjama bottoms. “Ouch!”

It might have been foolish of him, but he had not seen that coming. 

“What are you doing?” He barked, twisting around as best as he could, but Victor's grip prevented him from moving as much as he would have liked. Ideally, he would have liked to jump off his attacker's lap and get a safe distance away from him. 

Victor seemed unperturbed by his outrage. He simply put more weight onto the back of Oswald's waist and gave the smaller man a smile. “First time, huh?”

Another swat. Just as hard. Oswald yelped.

“Somehow I’m not surprised. You’ve kinda been asking for this, boss.” He sounded thoughtful, like he was reminiscing on all the times Oswald had been a little too inconsiderate or short tempered for his liking.

Oswald opened his mouth to contest Victor's highly objectionable claim, but it was useless. Before any well reasoned words could form in his head and leave his mouth, they were replaced with “Stop! Stop! Stop!” as the assassin began to lay down a series of fast, stinging slaps. 

Part of him knew this was far preferable to Victor and Ivy mutinying or plotting to kill him, but he didn't feel very grateful for that. It was humiliating, and childish! 

And it was most certainly not deserved. Despite what Victor might think.

“You’ll wake up the neighbors at this rate.” Victor remarked. Oswald didn't have neighbors, but Victor had a point. His cries might attract attention. He wasn't sure rescue was worth the indignity of being seen like this. 

“It hurts! I can't help it!” He hoped that might make Victor stop. Surely he didn't want to be seen this way either. It would be embarrassing for them both!

It didn't stop him.

“I’m being careful not to bruise you. You’re just dramatic.” 

Oswald didn't believe that for a second. He was sure he must already be bruised. He writhed over the firm surface of Victor's thighs but it did no good. He was still trapped and at the sadist’s mercy.

His legs were lean, and strong, and Oswald was embarrassed at himself for thinking how they might feel nice pressed up against him or underneath him in another situation. His pyjama shirt had ridden up above his navel thanks to all his squirming, so he could feel them occasionally tense beneath his stomach. 

Victor wasn't stopping and he couldn't take anymore. He pressed his face into his duvet in an attempt to stifle his increasingly breathless and pained moans. 

He wasn't aroused by the spanking as such. It hurt. It was humiliating. Mortifying. But the feeling of Victor so close to him… That was impossible to ignore. He no longer wanted to jump off his lap and run away. He wanted Victor to stop, but then he wanted him to touch him. He’d settle for anything. Slow, gentle caresses on the skin that he'd left sore and stinging… Or something more possessive, more carnal.

Anything.

Victor’s swats slowed to a gradual stop and the last one was little more than a firm pat on the seat of Oswald's pants. It made Oswald moan all the same.

It was impossible that Victor hadn't noticed the effect he’d had on him. 

“You should apologize to Ivy.” He patted him again, lightly. Oswald responded with a soft snuffle into the crook of his arm. After a pause, he added, “Once you calm down.”

What else could he say but “yes”? Oswald mumbled out his answer, and though it was barely audible, Victor seemed satisfied.

“Good.”

At that point, Oswald expected Victor to get him to stand up so he could leave. He would be hot and frustrated and sore, and once he was sure Victor was definitely not coming back, he would probably end up touching himself and loathing himself for it afterward.

But that didn't happen. Instead, Oswald felt a newly gentle hand rest on his bottom. His breath caught sharply in his throat and then came out in a soft, shuddering whimper as Victor rubbed his palm over the curve of his ass. 

“Victor…” He pleaded. For what he didn't quite know. 

Victor shushed him again but this time it was far less intimidating. He continued to smooth his hand over the thin woolen fabric. “It's okay.”

Oswald wasn't sure that it was. He felt debauched for being so turned on by something that was initially intended as a punishment, but Victor didn't sound like he was being insincere. 

Oswald shifted a little on his stomach, intending to get into a slightly more comfortable position, when he felt something hard prod into his side. 

A quiet groan came from Victor as it did, and Oswald could barely believe it. Victor was hard too.

“You make nice sounds when you're awake as well.” Victor said, to explain his own excitement. If Oswald didn't know better, he’d think the assassin almost sounded sheepish.

“Thank you.” Oswald replied, because he didn't know what else to say. His head felt like it was spinning.

Victor ran his thumb over the elastic waistband of his pyjama bottoms. He slipped it underneath it just a little, and it brushed against Oswald's bare skin, and the smaller man practically mewed.

“Can I?” Victor asked, and Oswald nodded enthusiastically. He wasn't quite sure what Victor was asking to do, but anything… He longed for anything. “You can apologise to Ivy at breakfast.”

Oswald agreed with an impatient whine, although his thoughts were far, far from Ivy as Victor took down his pants.


End file.
